“Yeah, Robert told me that it’s the equivalent of a modern American reading Chaucer in the original. Still, the eggheads at DARPA say that the software is adaptive. Although Chaucer isn’t easy to read, it’s still a lot easier for us than it would be for someone who didn’t know English at all.”
“You couldn’t program the Aramaic?”
“I had no access to modern speakers on such short notice. Besides, we’d have the same language drift problem — worse, probably.”
Do the others have one?
“I could only get my hands on three. I was going to give one to Lavon, but I didn’t expect the other two to take off like they did, which is a shame, since it can also serve as a two way radio.”
Moments later, the servant returned. He was more insistent this time; we must have been holding up the line.
“Go ahead,” I said. “It’s waterproof. If you keep it around your neck, you won’t be able to hear me, but I should be able to hear you.”
She stepped behind the drapery and hung her clothes on a rack. Then she walked down a narrow corridor until she reached the entrance to the caldarium, where she slipped on the wooden clogs that the attendant had laid at the threshold.
As I was to see a few minutes later, the pool itself was surprisingly large — about seventy-five feet long and roughly half as wide. We could hear the fires from the furnace underneath — a hypocaust, Lavon had called it. Hot air mixed with steam rose from hollowed out bricks along the edges of the room, producing a sauna-like effect.
I could hear her kick off the clogs and ease herself into the water. It sounded like she swam a couple of easy laps before gliding over to the steps and leaning back.
“It’s about the temperature of a Jacuzzi,” she said. “The only things lacking are the bubbles.”
I smiled. We had, perhaps, enough mechanical knowledge between the five of us to invent some sort of pump out of available materials, though I for one didn’t want to hang around long enough to find out.
Sharon stayed in the water and helped herself to the refreshments beside the pool. A little while later, we both heard a bell ring, which was the signal to move on.
I gave her a few minutes before I, too, deposited my clothes on the shelf. I walked into the caldarium and set my bag next to the edge of the pool. I also swam a couple of slow laps and then just rested on the warm steps, sampling the food. Lavon was right: it was delicious.
Between the warmth and the chow, I lost track of time. A little while later, though, the bell rang again, so I got out of the water, picked up my bag, and headed to the next station.
This room, the frigidarium, Lavon had called it, was only a quarter of the size of the one I had just left. People were less likely to linger here, and this made sense.
I suppose some creatures — polar bears, perhaps — might have described the water as ‘invigorating.’ To me, it was just plain cold, although it did shake the cobwebs loose.
A stack of towels sat on a nearby table, so I jumped out and dried myself off. I tossed the first towel into a wicker basket, wrapped another around my waist, and placed my ear bud back into position.
“What do you want?” I heard her say — and not to me.
“Sharon?” I called out.
I stepped out of the frigidarium but instead of walking into one corridor, I found myself at the intersection of three.
“Sharon?”
I listened intently, but heard only a soft murmur.
Then I heard a shuffling sound: the toadying slave appeared in the right hand corridor and signaled for me to follow him.
I glared at him. “Where is she?”
He couldn’t understand my words, but I suspected he knew their meaning.
The worm motioned me forward again. This time, his manner reminded me of the pimps I had once seen all over the Far East — obnoxious pests who followed me everywhere touting ‘I have deal for you my friend.’
Right.
Since he was rushing me to go in one direction, I obviously wanted to go in another. But which one?
I pretended to stumble and reached down to grab my ankle. When he stepped closer to assist me, I grabbed my folding knife from my bag, whipped it open and held it to his throat.
“Where. Is. She?” I said.
The words weren’t important. He knew exactly what I wanted.
He pointed down the center corridor, and somewhat foolishly, I backed toward it, intending to turn around and push him through in reverse.
I never made it. A second later, I felt a thump and my world went completely black.
Chapter 28
The next thing I remembered, a man was shaking me awake. I instinctively recoiled and reached for my knife, then felt several sets of arms holding me down as I flailed about.
It took me a few more seconds to fully come to. As I did, I could see three men, bald, clean shaven and dressed in identical white tunics, standing around me.
One of them spoke. I couldn’t understand a word he was saying, though as my vision improved, I noted the look of concern in his eyes — all of their eyes, for that matter. Whoever these people were, they weren’t part of the crew in the baths.
Once I was completely conscious, the three of them took a step back and watched as I reached behind my pounding head to feel for blood.
Fortunately, I found none, and after minute or so, two of them reached down and helped me stagger to my feet.
I gestured my thanks as best I could and then glanced past them to take in my surroundings. The tallest man pointed to a spot just outside the city wall and gestured that he had found me there. He had then recruited his colleagues to carry me to my current location, a shady spot beneath an olive tree about a quarter mile to the northeast of the Antonia.
Why, I couldn’t tell. Maybe they were Good Samaritans — perhaps even the original ones.
I could see from the position of the sun that it was only mid-morning, so I hadn’t been out all that long. I also noticed, for the first time, that a boisterous crowd had gathered around a colonnaded structure a hundred yards to the north.
There, several groups of men, each carrying stretchers, attempted to push their way through the southernmost entrance. However, those already inside closed ranks to block their passage.
My benefactors watched the burgeoning drama with a sense of concern. One of them, evidently the leader, ordered the other two to deal with the situation.
As they hustled away, their boss gestured for me to follow him, but I just held my hands up, silently asking to remain in place a little longer.
He stared into my eyes for a few seconds and then shrugged, as if to indicate that I was no longer his responsibility; then he ambled up the path to join his colleagues.
I still couldn’t figure out what was happening. The stretcher-bearers continued to jostle for position without success, until a couple of them finally set their loads down and turned on the crowd blocking their way. I watched half a dozen men fall to the ground, where they grappled and threw wild punches as bystanders cheered them on.
My rescuers did nothing for several minutes. Finally, they shoved the crowd back, and after another brief interval to let the brawlers tire even further, they pulled the combatants apart, like modern policemen breaking up a bar fight.
Knowing the Roman tendency to pounce on the first inkling of trouble, I glanced back to the Antonia, half expecting a squad of soldiers to come charging up the road. Neither sentry, however, paid the commotion any mind. Apparently, this sort of thing wasn’t unusual, at least not here.
After they broke up the altercation, the man in charge glanced back in my direction and once again signaled me to follow.
I hesitated briefly. My first inclination was to return to the Antonia, and if I could have been certain that Publius was there, I would have. He’d sort it all out, I was sure, probably first by seizing that slave and flogging him to within an inch of his life.